XXI. 



TWO LITTLE DRUMMERS. 



LAST summer I made the acquaintance of an 

 outlaw ; an unfortunate fellow-creature under the 

 ban of condemnation, burdened with an oppro- 

 brious name, and by general consent given over 

 to the tender mercies of any vagabond who 

 chooses to torture him or take his life. One 

 would naturally sympathize with the "under 

 dog," but when, instead of one of his peers as 

 opponent, a poor little fellow, eight inches long, 

 has arrayed against him the whole human race, 

 with all its devices for catching and killing, his 

 chances for life and the pursuit of happiness 

 are so small that any lover of justice must be 

 roused to his defense, if defense be possible. 



The individual of whom I speak is, properly, 

 the yellow-bellied woodpecker, though he is 

 more commonly known as the sapsucker, in 

 some places the squealing sapsucker; and I 

 hailed with joy his presence in a certain pro- 

 tected bit of woods, a little paradise for birds 

 and bird lovers, where, if anywhere, he could 

 be studied. There is some propriety in apply- 



